


Claws

by AmyDeHP



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyDeHP/pseuds/AmyDeHP
Summary: After the first introduction between Aerys and his granddaughter goes sour, Rhaegar decides to give his daughter Rhaenys a gift.





	

Men didn’t think of Rhaegar Targaryen as a man who was easy to anger.

The prince was always quiet. Always level-headed. He weighed his words a hundred times before speaking them, and observed matters a thousand times before forming a feeling or an opinion. He was Baelor the Blessed come again; though when he thought of the old dead king, he couldn’t help but pity the foolishness of the man, and pray that he would never become similar. 

But people often forgot that when your father is Aerys II Targaryen, anger tends to be an emotion you feel on many occasions. That included dinners of the royal family, seeing how his father treated his dear lady mother and merely being with him in the same room. It’s only that Rhaegar had inherited his mother’s ability to conceal her feelings that prevented him from slapping the old man and ending up dealing with dire consequences. Eventually he couldn’t handle his father’s temper (especially towards him) and that among many other reasons, moved him with his lady Elia to Dragonstone. 

As the prince rode in his carriage through the streets of King’s Landing that day, his fist was clenched, his knuckles white, and a rare frown appeared between his silver brows. His other hand, he tried not to clench violently as well, seeing as it was securing his baby daughter on his lap. 

The day that Rhaenys was born, the bells rung in Dragonstone. His lady lay abed for days afterwards, and for her pain he was sorry, but his little girl had filled his world with a rare joy. 

The little girl had the golden skin and dark hair of her lady mother. her hands and feet were delightful; the fingers and toes on them were so small they made him want to giggle like a maid. He spent much of his time observing her, holding her, sending for the biggest silk traders from all over Westeros to come to Dragonstone and make the most beautiful clothes for his little girl, and the most renowned sculptors to make her toys of wood and silver and gold. And when she started crying, he would let the milkmaid feed her, until the lady Elia woke one day and asked to be the one to do it. 

For a while, his little family was his entire world. His little daughter was a delight, and his wife was a graceful woman, kind and loving. He pushed back from his head the responsibilities, the prophecies, the songs, the prophetic heroes that were promised, the three heads of the dragon, the talk of ice and fire, even his future rule. Even the king and his sons and their knights and ladies who died at Summerhall the day he came into the world, he chose to forget.  _It doesn’t have to be now_ , he told himself.  _For now, I can be happy with my family._

Months later, it was past time that he presents his daughter to the court in King’s Landing. His mother had sent him a raven asking to see the girl and delight in her, and he was not going to refuse her. He dressed his daughter in a dress with both the three headed dragon and the sun pierced by a spear on it. It was red and gold, stranded at the hemline with small rubies and pearls plated in gold. 

A royal galley carried the prince and the little princess to the port of King’s Landing. Rhaegar was troubled by the thought of meeting his father, but worse, at the idea of his daughter and Aerys in the same room. Every day, ravens and travelers came to Dragonstone carrying news of the king’s increasingly volatile temper, and every day, they got worse. Oh, so much worse. 

At court, the lords and ladies smiled at their future king, and bowed and pretended to love the little girl. One or two asked for Rhaegar’s permission to name their future daughters after her. He granted it to them.  _Why ask permission for a name? I don’t own it._  But he gathered that they wanted him to know; they wanted him to favor them. They wanted to find gains in their future, when Rhaegar sat the seven-damned thorny seat. But with some, he felt a tremor; an underlying unease. And he knew why: Sides were being taken. The court was already splitting sides between the king and his son. Oh, how he was grateful for Arthur’s presence behind him… not for fear for his safety, but because it was all too much to take. He felt his friend’s silent support and leaned on it as he proceeded to the throne room. 

It’s there that he felt the most unease.  _Father is already turning them against me, and others have already turned him as well. All the men feeding him information about my infidelity, my conspiracy. They’re all here._

His mother was sitting in a small chair beside his father’s big one. The woman who was dearest to him in the world smiled like all of her world was lit. The man who sat on the throne matched all the rumors he heard of his father. His hair was almost matted, his fingernails as he put his hands on his knees were claws. He could tell that the man hadn’t let water touch his body in months. His expression was unreadable. 

Rhaegar let the milkmaid that accompanied him carry his daughter, and knelt before his father. His hair touched the ground. He straightened his back again quickly.  _I will kneel to him as owed to a king, but he won’t have the pleasure of bending my pride for long._

“Royal sire, my queen, I present to you your granddaughter, princess Rhaenys.” 

His mother got up and descended the steps towards him. “My son,” she said as she put her hand gently on his shoulder. “Mother,” he smiled, and rejoiced in her soothing touch. A more affectionate welcoming would come in private. 

The mother then picked up the little girl from the arms of the milkmaid. She laughed in delight. “Oh, how sweet! What a beautiful little girl!” She embraced her. “Looks like her lady mother!” 

Rhaegar was smiling in utter happiness. Until his mother turned around and he remembered that other people were in the room. 

“Look, your grace. Our dear son’s daughter is a sweet little princess!” she turned to him and whispered, “I will do it.”

“Thank you mother,” he whispered back, grateful. 

Queen Rhaella carried Rhaenys to Aerys who sat on the Iron Throne, higher than all those in the room. The queen was only steps away from her husband, about to hand him the child. The prince caught his breath in his lungs. That was when the king finally spoke. 

“Ugh, carry her away from me. Smells like her mother. Smells Dornish.”

For a moment, Rhaegar couldn’t comprehend what was said. It was others’ reactions that helped him catch up. It was prince Lewyn Martell’s cold side glance at his king. It was Arthur’s low groan that no one else could hear. It was Ser Barristan’s shamed look at the ground. It was his mother’s utter horror as she descended a few steps, carrying her king’s order. It was the low laughs of some who felt no love for Dornishmen. 

And then he was aghast. Others may be disgusted, but he was furious. His fist clenched and his voice sounded cold when he said, “She is your granddaughter.”

“And you dressed her in a sun pierced by a spear side by side with our dragon to spite me, eh, boy? Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing behind my back. I know you and your wife have been plotting against me. I know you want my throne sooner than my death. Aye, I know.” A mad look appeared in his father’s eye. “But you will not have it so long as I live, and you will not kill me. No, you will not.”

Anger filled the prince’s chest, and he didn’t know what to say for seconds, as everyone in the room looked shocked and whispers filled the air. Some gave him dirty looks, and some looked sympathetic, but none of them mattered. Only the wretched old royal scum that sat above them. It took him a minute to think of what was right to say.

“I would not commit regicide or patricide. My wife is a kind and true lady who would never plot against her king. And may I remind you that you chose her, father. May the seven forgive you your slights towards both of us. I don’t care how soon or far the day is when I sit that throne. I am your son and heir.” And then he turned around towards all the onlookers, and the dirty glances died.  _Those who hate me and my wife and daughter will still be fearful of me. That, I promise. And then I shall raise up those brave and honorable Dornishmen that they despise. And then I will erase my father’s madness and damage from this world._

Aerys looked threatened and afraid. It’s true, Rhaegar was his heir. He might try to undo that, to make Viserys heir instead, but that will not kill the support that his son meets from some. To many, Rhaegar was still well loved. To most, in fact. And should the king make Viserys heir, he might create conflict between the two brothers that may prove fatal to the future of House Targaryen. 

“May I have my leave now, father?”

“Go.”

His mother handed him his daughter, a sad look on her face. Her hand lingered on his for a moment, and he kissed her forehead. He turned around and left, his daughter in his arms, and Arthur and the milkmaid behind him. 

He was preparing to leave the city when he was sent for by his mother.

The queen’s quarters in Maegor’s holdfast were vast and warm. His mother was waiting for him in a small, softly candlelit parlor. That’s when they finally embraced. 

When she released him, he said, “Oh, mother… I’m so sorry.”

“No, I am. Your father has been like this for a while. He has advisers who fill his head with lies about you and tarnish your name with illusions of treason,” she said sympathetically.

“I know. But there’s nothing I can do about it, and nothing he can do to me either. But there’s plenty he can do to you.”

His mother looked at the ground, and then sat in a chair by a square table and poured herself some wine. Another cup was waiting next to hers; she’d brought it for him, no doubt. 

“It is true?”

She took a sip and didn’t answer. 

“Mother. Is it true? I’ve heard rumors. Does he… hurt you?”

The queen played with a strand of her silver hair, her face expressionless. The prince almost choked on his rage. His next words came out with difficulty. “Come with me.”

“You know I can’t.”

“He’ll have to kill me before he lays his hands on you again.”

“And you think I’ll let him hurt you? No, Rhae. I would rather endure than you and your family having to.” 

He knew that there was no way to sway her, and he knew that she was right. There’s no precedent to the queen leaving her king and living with her son on Dragonstone. Aerys will not allow it. He sat next to her and poured wine in his cup.

“How’s my little brother?” he wondered how the little thing was dealing was Aerys Targaryen as his father.

“He’s good. He began speaking a few months ago.”

Rhaegar smiled a small smile. A beautiful, small part of his family remains in this castle, in his mother and brother. “I want to see him.”

His mother hesitated. “He’s… sleeping.”

“Can I just check on him before I go? I haven’t seen him in very long. A sculptor came from Essos to make toys for Rhaenys, and I had a dragon made for him as well. I want to give it to him.”

“Rhae…”

She didn’t talk. She only shook her head.

His throat tightened. “Did he…”

“He forbade it. Some heard him saying you might kill your little brother to ensure you’re his only heir. I don’t think he truly thinks so, I think he just wants to spite you.”

_Seven hells._

He was thinking of all that in the carriage taking him to the port, of his mother’s final embrace and her words encouraging him to be patient with his father. 

He was thinking of his father’s vile remarks about his daughter and his wife, of his little brother that he might not see for years until the old scum was dead, of his poor, brave mother who endured, and endured, and endured. 

He apologized to Arthur about his father’s remarks about Dornishmen. Arthur asked Rhaegar if he might be frank, and when Rhaegar ensured him that he can be, he called Aerys an unsavory word that placed a smile on Rhaegar’s lips for a short instance. 

Little Rhaenys had been asleep, but she woke up and began to fidget. She had been fed and her smallclothes were changed in the castle before the short journey to the ship. 

“Look, sweetling,” he raised his daughter up so that her eyes could see through the window. She was silent for a while, her eyes wondering at the unfamiliar sights. They were passing near the slums of Flea Bottom when he glanced a shop owner beating a cat away from his merchandise. 

He instantly knocked on the roof of the carriage, and it stopped. He descended from the carriage, followed by Arthur. 

The cat was shying away from the shop now, which was a fish shop. He ordered a guard who was accompanying him to grab it. He carried it, and brought it into Rhaegar’s hand. He checked it; it was clearly a female, her teats swollen with milk and her abdomen full. She was pregnant. Skinny, dirty, with flees on her, she was the color of ink. 

As he was standing there, he remembered another story from his past.

When Rhaegar was a child of five or six, he had no companions. He didn’t enjoy the play of other children, and often found himself alone, imprisoned by thoughts as he ceased trying to mingle with his peers. One day, he was taken pity of by a knight of the kingsguard (Was it Ser Barristan? He can’t recall) and the man brought him a kitten. It was a little thing with heavy fur, white and gray; a kitten birthed by a big fat cat owned by a courtesan from Essos who was a guest at court. 

Rhaegar loved the little beast. He didn’t care that his hands and his arms were filled with scratches from holding him, he fed it himself, and it slept in his bed. He had heard whispers of the future king being accompanied by a kitten like girls, and again, he didn’t care. Eventually it stopped attacking him and started to rub its head on his small hands and feet, and enjoyed it when he rubbed its belly with his fingers. He had named it Lord Silverbeard. 

Almost a year later, when the kitten had become a cat with big green eyes and whiskers, it disappeared. The queen ordered men to search for it, and it was nowhere to be found. Little Rhaegar plunged even deeper into his books and his sadness. Two years later, he was dining with his royal parents when his father admitted, laughing in his cups, that he had ordered the cat killed and gotten rid of. It wasn’t proper for a crown prince, he said, and made a sour remark about Rhaegar’s lack of interest in swords and spears and daggers and armor, and how he was interested in “girls’ play”. The little prince cried on his mother’s breast to sleep that night, and never forgave his father since.

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked around, still carrying the black cat that was scratching him now, and saw some people kneeling, some smiling at him, and some not looking him in the eye. He was no stranger to the smallfolk of King’s Landing. 

He handed the shop owner a golden dragon and asked for fish. He was given a woven basket full of it, but he returned most of it wanting only a couple, and then he asked for another basket; an empty one.

In the carriage, Rhaenys was still on his lap, wondering at the black cat as she ate the fish and then sat in the empty basket, licking her paws. The smell of fish filled the air, but he didn’t care. He was happy that his daughter was. 

“What will you name it?” Arthur asked. 

Rhaegar thought for a moment. “Lady Rhaella.”

“It’s going to give birth soon.”

“It is. I want the kittens for my daughter. She’ll love them.”

“And what will you name them?”

“She will. They will be hers.”

And she will be resilient, as he was. As this cat is. She will be strong and brave as his lady mother. She will be full of love and grace and kindness, as his lady wife. She will be the princess of Westeros, loved by all. And, most importantly, she will not be in the same room with Aerys Targaryen so long as Rhaegar may live. 

 


End file.
